You Ruined Me, Now You Regret It

Three years ago, a major medical malpractice incident cost me my license.

My reputation was in ruins. I was forced to scrape by, working in a shabby little clinic.

Through it all, my husband, Arthur, stood by me. He sold off family assets to hire a top-tier lawyer who, citing insufficient evidence, managed to keep me out of prison.

He was my only light in the darkness.

Until the day I found the hidden folder on his old laptop.

And discovered the truth about that surgery.

The video clearly showed him, identified as the patient's family, sneaking into the prep room before the operation and swapping a critical drug.

The so-called top-tier lawyer? She was just an old university mentee of his.

The files showed her coaching him on how to forge evidence and manipulate the media, all to paint me as a reckless butcher who played with human lives.

And the one thing he always said to me, over and over?

Without me, Nina, no one in this world would ever want you.

I shut the laptop and looked in the mirror.

All I saw was a pair of scarred hands that trembled at the mere thought of holding a scalpel, and a gaunt, haunted reflection, the product of years of deep depression.

It finally hit me. These three miserable years of my life... they were all his doing.

1

I sat on the cold floor of the study, my entire body shaking.

The laptop screen was still glowing, the video having played to its end. The final frame was of Arthur, wearing medical gloves, carefully switching one vial for another.

The date, the time, the surgery number.

It all matched.

That was the day my world had collapsed.

It wasn't an accident. It was a meticulously planned murder.

The murder of my career. The murder of my life.

There was more in the folder.

Screenshots of emails, chat logs. A digital trail of conversations between Arthur and his "top-tier lawyer" mentee, Stella.

Don't worry, Arthur. I'll handle the media narrative. Ill make sure she never practices again.

And after this is done, your new firm

Of course. Any clients you send my way will be top priority. And as for Dr. Reed shell be more dependent on you than ever.

Good. Thats for the best.

The cold, calculated words on the screen made it hard to breathe.

I used the desk to pull myself to my feet and stared at my reflection. My face was ashen, with dark, bruised circles under my eyes from years of insomnia. My hands, the hands that had once held a scalpel with unshakable confidence, were now a roadmap of self-inflicted scars. It was pathetic; I could barely hold a glass of water without spilling it.

At 4 a.m., I packed a suitcase and hid it in the back of the closet.

He came in at seven, right on schedule, holding a glass of milk.

"You're awake?" His voice was as gentle as ever as he sat on the edge of the bed. "It's your day off. You should sleep in."

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

I had looked at this face for seven years, once believing it to be the most dependable in the world. Now, it was the face of a terrifying stranger.

"What's wrong? You look pale."

He reached out to touch my forehead, and I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's nothing," I said, looking down, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just a bad dream."

"About the surgery again?" He sighed and handed me the milk. "Here, drink this. It'll calm you down. I added a little honey, just how you like it."

I stared at the milky white liquid. Id never questioned it before. He told me it was a supplement to help me relax, and I drank it obediently every day, spending the rest of my hours in a hazy, forgetful fog.

Now I knew what it really was. Sedatives. A steady, low dose, administered over years.

I took the glass, placed it on the nightstand, and asked casually, "Are you going out today?"

"Yeah, a last-minute meeting at the office. I might be back late." He leaned down. "You just rest here at home. Don't let your mind wander, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. A touch that had once brought me comfort now made my skin crawl.

The moment the front door clicked shut, I ran to the bathroom and poured the milk down the toilet.

Back in the bedroom, I opened my phone and found the main number for Arthur's company.

"Good morning, Apex Medical Solutions. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I'd just like to confirm if President Arthur Vance has a last-minute meeting scheduled for this morning?"

"One moment, please."

I heard the clatter of a keyboard.

"No I'm not seeing any meetings on his schedule for today. May I ask who's calling?"

"Never mind. Thank you."

I hung up. I knew that if he wasn't at the office, there was only one other place he would be.

Stella's law firm.

I saw Arthur's car parked in a temporary spot on the side of the building. Two minutes later, Stella emerged from the revolving doors. She walked quickly to the car, pulled open the passenger door, and slipped inside.

I watched them kiss.

It was natural. Practiced.

I stood silently in the shadows, feeling no anger, no tears. Just a numb shock and a sharp, twisting pain in my chest, as if someone had reached in and squeezed my heart.

2

After about ten minutes, they finally broke apart.

Before Stella got out, Arthur grabbed her hand and said something. I was too far away to hear, but I saw her bright, confident smile and the firm nod she gave him.

She didn't go back into the building right away, instead standing on the curb, looking down at her phone.

I walked over and stopped in front of her.

She looked up, and the smile on her face froze.

"Dr... Dr. Reed?"

She quickly composed herself, her expression shifting to a professional, plastic smile. "What are you doing here? Were you looking for me?"

I looked at herthe woman who had destroyed my life. Young, beautiful, radiating success.

"Just passing by," I heard myself say, my voice terrifyingly calm. "I saw a familiar car and thought I'd take a look."

Her eyes darted away for a second, but she quickly recovered, a playful smirk forming on her lips as she looked me up and down.

"So, Dr. Reed," she said, crossing her arms, her voice light and airy, "I guess you know."

She let out a short, sharp laugh and took a step closer.

"Its a relief, honestly. Holding it in was killing me." She savored the moment, watching my face for a reaction. "These past three years, watching you cling to Arthur like a pathetic lost puppy I almost felt sorry for you."

She paused deliberately. "Did you know? The night of your 'incident,' he was with me. In my bed. Taking your tearful phone calls while I was lying next to him."

My nails dug into my palms. The pain was sharp, but it kept me grounded, kept me lucid.

"And that 'calming' milk you drink every day? The formula was my suggestion," she continued, her voice dripping with venom. "We couldn't make the dose too high, of course. That would be suspicious. It's the classic slow burn, isn't it? Watching you turn into a walking ghost I have to say, the results were excellent."

"He only keeps you around out of pity, you know. He's terrified you'll kill yourself if you leave, and that would ruin his precious reputation as the devoted, long-suffering husband."

Every word was a poisoned dagger, aimed with precision at my already shattered heart.

Strangely, the searing pain I expected never came. There was only a cold, spreading numbness.

I even managed a slight smile.

"Are you done?"

Stella clearly hadn't anticipated this reaction. She blinked, then her expression hardened, as if I had personally insulted her.

"Of course not!" she snapped. "Nina, let me be clear. Arthur is sick of you! He told me himself that the sight of your pathetic, half-dead face makes him lose his appetite!"

The sharp crack of my hand against her cheek echoed in the quiet street.

Stellas head snapped to the side, her face a mask of pure shock. A bright red handprint quickly began to bloom on her skin.

"You you hit me?!" she shrieked in disbelief. "Nina, you psycho, do you have any idea who I am?!"

I flexed my tingling right hand and stared at her, my face a blank mask.

"Is there a problem? A bitch like you deserves to be hit."

She was trembling with rage. "Fine! Just fine! Nina, you just wait. I'm calling the police. I'll make you"

"Do whatever you want," I cut her off.

Then I turned and walked away without looking back.

I went to the little clinic and quit the job I'd held for three years. Stepping outside, the sunlight felt surprisingly good.

I took out my phone and deleted the photo of Arthur and me on the beach that I used as my wallpaper. Then I opened my contacts and blocked his number, Stella's number, everyone connected to them.

It was clean, decisive. Not a moment of hesitation.

I knew that from the moment the truth was revealed, some things could never be salvaged.

And now, it was my turn.